"Forgive me, Lilian--forgive me, Madam. I found it on the floor after your escape, and I kept it as a token of remembrance. You will pardon my presumption in doing so, when I say, at that time, I thought never, never to meet you again, and assuredly could not have foreseen the happiness of an hour like this." He spoke in a brief and confused manner, for he was concerned at the annoyance Annie's raillery evidently caused Lilian. "Permit me to restore it," he added, with increased confusion, "or perhaps you--you will permit me--" "What?" "To have the honour of retaining it." "O no--no; how could you think of that?" said Lilian hurriedly and timidly, as she took the glove from the upheld riding-rod, and concealing it in some part of her dress, continued, "now let us hear no more of this silly affair. Ah, Mr. Walter, how sadly you have exposed yourself! To carry one's old glove about you, as Aunt Grisel does a charm against cramp, or thunder, or luck. 'Tis quite droll! Ah, good Heavens!" she added, in a whisper, "do not tell her of this affair, Annie!" "Dost think I am so simple? Finland has taught me how one ought to keep one's own secrets from fathers and mothers, and aunts too." "But to-morrow your sedan will be seen trotting over the whole town, up this close and down that, as you hurry from house to house, telling the wonderful adventure of the glove, and trussed up quite into a story in your own peculiar fashion, as long as the _Grand Scipio_, or any romance of Scuderi." "For Lilian's sake, let me hope not, Mistress Laurie," said Walter, imploringly, to the gay beauty. "Trust me for once, dear Lilian," said Annie, patting her cheek with her riding-switch, "I know when to prattle and when to be silent. Dost really think, my sweet little gossip, that I would jest with thy name, as I do with those of my Lady Jean Gordon, Mary of Charteris, the Countess of Dunbarton, or any of our wild belles who care not a rush how many fall in love with them, but bestow glances and kerchiefs, and rings and love-knots of ribbon, on all and sundry? I trow not. Apropos of that! I know three gentlemen of Claver'se Guards who wear Mary's favours in their hats, and if these ribbons are dyed in brave blood some grey morning, she alone will be to blame, for her coquetry is very dangerous. Young Holsterlee will be at the Countess of Dunbarton's ball _à la Française_ next week; observe him narrowly, and you will see a true-love knot of white ribbons at his breast; and if the young Lords Maddertie and Fawsyde are there, you will see each with the same gift from the same fond and liberal hand. Ah, she is a wild romp! It was the Duchess Mary's late suppers, and Monsieur Minuette's Bretagne that quite spoiled her, for once upon a time she was as grave, discreet, and silent as--as myself." "O you wag--such a recluse she must have been!"